And Then There Were Four
by Gre3nleaf
Summary: "It was at this very moment, as he sat around a table with them, all four of them laughing about some joke Aramis had made, that the Gascon suddenly felt guilt smack him in the face out of nowhere." D'Artagnan feels as though he's intruding on the three musketeers' friendship, and it takes a lot of persuading to prove to him that they love him with all their hearts.


**And Then There Were Four**

 **Something I started writing a while back and finished off just now! Please enjoy!**

* * *

D'Artagnan didn't normally feel guilt, but when he did, it was the worst possible feeling _ever._

He felt as if he'd willingly let the earth swallow him up if someone offered so he didn't have to face the people he'd disappointed or troubled. What was worse than upsetting the people you trusted and felt like your whole life depended on?

It had been only nine months since the young Gascon had met Athos, Porthos and Aramis, but already he was feeling like part of their small family. They cared for him, and – namely Aramis and Porthos – they weren't afraid to tell him that. D'Artagnan hadn't felt love like that for a long time; even before his father died, all he had spent his life doing was help work the farm they lived on. The boy had never really had time to experience familial – or even _romantic –_ love, but now, his new brothers were making up for that.

However, there was just one thing. Every day, when he woke up, the Gascon would immediately go and find the musketeers. They'd be in the Garrison somewhere, or a tavern nearby, but he'd always find them. And when he did, he'd feel that love he knew they held for him, and didn't think much of anything else. But it was at this very moment, as he sat around a table with them, all four of them laughing about some joke Aramis had made, that the Gascon suddenly felt guilt smack him in the face out of nowhere.

Maybe it was the way Porthos leaned forward from the laughter and placed his forehead against Aramis' chest, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to contain himself. Or maybe it was the way Athos smiled widely and shook his head, looking at the two with such love in his eyes that d'Artagnan hadn't yet seen aimed at him…

But slowly, the smile that d'Artagnan had had on his face faded, and he suddenly felt further away from the three musketeers than he had ever been before. Like he didn't know them. However, maybe it was the other way around. Maybe _they_ didn't know him – or they didn't want to at least…

D'Artagnan had randomly shown up one day at the Garrison, demanding to see Athos, and then trying to kill him when he got what he wanted. And now suddenly, he was best friends with him. Who gave him the right to _that_? Athos certainly hadn't, and neither had Porthos and Aramis. He had just casually started to hang around them after helping to save Athos' life, thinking everything was alright now. And he had admittedly thought that – after all, none of them had seemed affected by the extra member to their group – but the sudden thought that they may be pretending for his sake made him feel sick.

Did they really want him there? Or were they just being kind?

After all, their friendship was almost legendary in Paris. It was the _three musketeers_ , not _four_. Besides, he had only just become a musketeer! Did they honestly want to be seen with a _cadet_?

No. It was all lies.

D'Artagnan didn't know why he had suddenly started feeling this way, but he did, and he hated it. Guilt fell down on him like a ton of bricks, and he felt like he was intruding in their friendship. In their _family._ They were kind enough to not let him see this, to let him think that they welcomed him with open arms, but they had always been three, and now they were four.

"I have to go," he said quickly, not waiting for a response as he pushed back his chair and stood up, leaving the tavern.

The musketeers frowned, watching him leave. "The hell?" Porthos said, "did we do something wrong?"

Aramis shook his head. "Not that I know of. He was fine five minutes ago."

Athos stood to his feet, picking up his weapons belt and strapping it around his waist. "I'm going to find him."

Porthos nodded, taking the older musketeer's lead and standing up. He took a final swig of his drink and followed Athos out of the building, Aramis close behind.

* * *

D'Artagnan sighed as he leaned against his horse. It was now dark, but the Gascon hadn't gone back to his room once he left the tavern. He knew that that was where the musketeers would look first – if they had even thought about looking, that is – and so he had made his way to the stables, where his horse was. He could always find solitude with the animal. She had been with him since he left Gascony and seemed to be the only living thing he could find comfort in at the moment. The horse would listen to what he had to say, and wouldn't judge him for it. She'd nuzzle d'Artagnan with her velvety nose, as if she was telling him everything would be alright.

Maybe he could stay in here forever, so he wouldn't have to face speaking to anyone ever again…

"D'Artagnan, are you in here?"

The Gascon's head snapped up, and he looked around wildly for the source of the voice. Had they really already found him?

"D'Artagnan?" The boy breathed a sigh of relief as Treville rounded the corner. The captain wore a frown, but it soon turned into a smile once he saw who he was seemingly looking for.

"Captain," d'Artagnan said, "what is it?"

"I saw you run in here. Are you alright?"

The Gascon nodded, trying not to let the feeling that the captain cared for him enough to see if he was okay overwhelm him – he was probably pretending like the others. "I'm fine, thank you," he said before turning to walk on the other side of his horse, sitting in a corner of the stable and picking up a piece of hay, idly playing with it in his hands. Treville nodded, understanding that this was an indication by the boy that he wanted to be left alone, and turned to walk out, patting the black mare's neck as he passed.

That boy was so confusing. He was clearly upset, so why wouldn't he let him help him?

The captain dragged a hand down his face with a long sigh as he walked out of the stables, immediately catching sight of his three musketeers as they walked into the Garrison courtyard, all of them wearing worried expressions on their faces.

"What is it?" Treville asked, his voice sounding extremely stressed.

"We're looking for d'Artagnan. Have you seen him?" Athos asked.

The captain frowned. "Yes. He's in the stables with his horse."

The musketeers looked at each other before nodding their thanks and walking towards where their missing friend was.

"Hey," Treville said, turning around and stopping them in their tracks, "do you know what's wrong with him?"

"You've noticed it too?" Aramis said.

"Noticed what?"

"That he's not himself."

The captain nodded. "He seems upset. You don't know why?"

Porthos shook his head. "No, but we're about to. You comin'?"

Treville nodded, wanting to see what was wrong with d'Artagnan. He was usually such a happy, bubbly young man, and so the fact that he was now cowering in a corner of the stables and refusing to tell him what was wrong was fairly worrying…

The four musketeers trooped into the stables, slowing their pace when they saw their friend still sitting in the same place Treville had found him.

"D'Artagnan?" Porthos asked quietly, watching as the Gascon's head snapped up and his eyes widened at seeing his friends standing in front of him.

"How did you find me so quick?" he asked in disbelief.

"We know you better than you think," Aramis said with a smile.

D'Artagnan huffed. He drew his legs up to his chest and placed his chin on his knees, looking down at the ground. "What do you want?" he said in a barely audible voice.

"For you to tell us what is wrong," Treville told him.

"Well, you've wasted your time. Nothing's wrong."

The musketeers frowned at each other. Only d'Artagnan could make it possible for someone to be completely fine and laughing at some joke at the tavern one moment, and then extremely upset and troubled the next.

"D'Artagnan, please," Aramis said, moving closer and bending down in front of Athos, looking at the younger musketeer, "we want to help."

"Oh, you do?" d'Artagnan said in a horribly sarcastic voice. "That is nice to know."

Everyone looked at each other confusedly. What _was_ going on in that man's mind?

"D'Artagnan…" Athos said.

"What?"

The musketeer's eyes narrowed and he walked in front of Aramis. The Gascon looked up as a dark shadow fell over him, and he scowled at Athos. "Please just leave me alone. All of you," he said darkly.

"No," Athos replied simply. "Tell us what is wrong and we will leave."

D'Artagnan broke. "You don't want me here, so why should I tell you? You don't care about me! You're lying, all of you!"

In a fit of irritation, the Gascon leaped to his feet and tried to push past Athos, who was blocking his way. The older musketeer grabbed him and held him in a way which clearly showed his years of experience, d'Artagnan struggling in his grip but still being able to hold on tight.

"Calm down," he said quietly, "calm down brother."

" _Don't_ call me that," d'Artagnan hissed, but nevertheless he stopped resisting against Athos' hold on him and hunched over his arms, tears beginning to fall from his eyes.

Athos said nothing, instead sharing a puzzled glance with the musketeers stood behind him before slowly moving back to the corner d'Artagnan had been sat in and lowering himself and the Gascon to the floor, still keeping his firm hold on him. D'Artagnan's brown eyes were squeezed shut, tears leaking out from under them as he lay in Athos' arms, his back to his chest as he sobbed uncontrollably.

Aramis frowned, moving forward and seating himself beside Athos, though making sure he distanced himself a little. Porthos did the same, sitting next to Aramis, their shoulders touching. Treville turned and walked towards d'Artagnan's horse, patting the wary animal's neck. He had seen her fidgeting at the far end of her stall since Athos had grabbed d'Artagnan, and now, seeing the Gascon was secure, went to calm his frisky mare.

D'Artagnan's heart wrenching cries slowly started to quieten down, and before long he was completely silent, emotionless eyes staring into the distance, still being held in the older musketeer's arms.

"D'Artagnan," Athos said gently, "are you alright?"

D'Artagnan gave a small nod. "Yes," he muttered.

"Good."

Aramis lay a hand on the young man's knee and lightly squeezed. "Can Athos let you go?"

Another nod, and Athos removed his hands from around d'Artagnan's waist, not in the least bit surprised when he stayed where he was, instead choosing to lean back further into his friend's muscled chest and draw in a deep, ragged breath. "I'm… sorry," he mumbled after a moment or two, and if it wasn't for the fact that he was sitting right next to the musketeers, they wouldn't have heard him.

Athos shook his head. "No. We are sorry, for there is obviously something we have done to upset you."

D'Artagnan turned his head slightly to look at his friend, brown eyes again glistening with unshed tears. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," Porthos said, "stop saying that."

The Gascon relented, his head dropping to the floor. He noticed Treville from the corner of his eye and watched as the captain walked towards them, sitting in front of him. "Could you tell us what has you so upset?" he asked in a tone that surprised even Athos. He spoke far gentler than they'd ever heard him speak before, and it seemed to work miracles for d'Artagnan, who lifted his head and, in a voice constantly interrupted by hiccups, spilled the entire story to his friends.

"It… it only came up r-recently, but I just suddenly thought – I don't know why – what if- if you don't actually like me? I'm just- just some boy who tried to _kill_ you Athos, I.. I- I never thought I'd be friends with you now, so what if this is all some _trick_? What if you're _pretending_ to like me when in reality I'm just some- some _farm boy_ who came marching into your perfect friendship and completely _destroyed_ it? I'd hate to have done that, and I- I'm sorry if I have and I'm sorry if I haven't… I just c-can't stop myself from thinking like this! Y-you all mean so, _so_ much to me, but I can't see myself meaning that much to you, and I used to, but now I- I _just don't know_!" The young man completely lost it then, breaking into tears, and Athos quickly gathered him in his arms, soothing him as if he was a small child who had just confessed to something that had long been haunting his mind.

"That's gotta be the most rubbish thing I've heard my whole life!" Porthos said exasperatedly, and Treville couldn't help the smile which found its way onto his face. It was true. D'Artagnan - oh, d'Art _agnan_ – that man was so afraid of _meaning_ something to somebody after losing his father. He just couldn't seem to grasp the fact that he _was_ considered a little brother to Athos, Aramis and Porthos, and constantly thought on the negative side of things. He came up with the most ridiculous things at times – such as _this_ – but to him, it wasn't ridiculous. It was a real thing that needed real sorting out. He was terrified that it was true - that treating him like a part of their family was all an act – and he needed someone to walk up to him, smack him in the face, and tell him to stop being an idiot! Well… maybe not exactly that, but… something along those lines.

"Why would you think such things, little brother?" Aramis asked kindly, though he raised a brow when d'Artagnan turned to look at him, a scowl almost making its way onto his face if it weren't for the older musketeer's expression.

"I already told you," he hiccupped.

Aramis smiled. "That was a lot of heart-felt sobbing and crying, d'Artagnan. Tell us again."

The Gascon was silent for a moment, before he began to speak. "I feel like I have intruded in your friendship," he started. "I couldn't understand why you would accept me so easily into your lives when the first thing I ever said to Athos was 'prepare to fight, one of us dies here.'"

The musketeers around him laughed at the memory, and d'Artagnan couldn't help his own smile.

"You three were so happy as… as a _three_! You were, oh, I don't know, 'the three musketeers', or- or 'the three inseparables'… I'd heard about your friendship even from Gascony, and I didn't feel like joining in on that was something you wanted. I felt so _guilty_. I mean, they couldn't just change it to 'the four musketeers', could they?"

"Well, why not?" Athos asked.

D'Artagnan shrugged. "It doesn't sound as heroic."

Laughter echoed throughout the stable for a moment, and the young man felt his spirits slowly begin to lighten again as he wiped the stray tears from his puffy eyes and relished the feeling of Athos' arm wrapped loosely – _comfortingly_ – around his waist.

"I've never felt like this before, so I'm not sure why the thought suddenly came to mind, but when it did… I felt so _afraid_. I have never had friends like you before, and that first night when you invited me out for a drink, I was like an excited child on his birthday! I felt as though I'd finally found some people I could become close enough to call my brothers…"

"And that is what you have done," Treville said.

"Yes," d'Artagnan said, though there was a slightly hesitant tone to his voice. "I just… it suddenly dawned on me that I never thought to ask if I could, well… you know. If I could be friends with you. You are older than me, and maybe it would be embarrassing for you to be seen with me."

Athos smiled at these words. "D'Artagnan," he said, "none of what you have said is not, and will never be, true, do you hear me? You had no reason to _ask_ us if we could be friends! We invited you out for a drink that night because we liked you very much. Yes, you are younger than us, but do you think we would even consider your age before asking you to come to the tavern with us?"

At this, d'Artagnan smirked faintly. "You would if I looked too young to be drinking."

Athos – yes, _Athos_ – rolled his eyes and poked the Gascon in the side, smiling when he let out a laugh before continuing. "You are a man, even if you are a young man, and we wanted to become friends with you, which is why we invited you along. We wanted to get to know you better after… well, after you declared that I was either to fight you or die on my knees."

"Sorry about that," d'Artagnan mumbled, and Athos chuckled.

"I must admit, none of us believed we would grow to be as close to you as we are now, but we are, and that is all that matters. We do not care about the names people have created for our friendship. All we cared about was welcoming you into our family with open arms. None of what we have done for you, or said to you, has been a lie. We love you like a little brother, and _little brother_ is a far more important title to us than _the three musketeers_. We were never acting when we said you are our best friend."

"Or when we said the Garrison would never be the same without you," Aramis added.

"Or when we told you that you are more important to us than anyone," Porthos said.

"And I definitely know they were not acting when they came up to me a month after we had met you and proudly told me that they felt so lucky to have you as their friend," Treville said, watching happily as he saw d'Artagnan's eyes light up.

"They did that?" he asked quietly.

"They did. And I feel that same luck," Treville said. "You are as important to me as you are to them."

The young Gascon felt more tears well up in his eyes, but this time they were tears of happiness. Of joy, of delight, of _relief._

"I love you all," he felt himself saying into Athos' chest.

"We love you too brother," Porthos said with a grin.

"And please be aware that if you ever think something as barbaric as we don't like you, let alone _love_ you, then I will probably hit you. Very hard," Aramis said sternly, though d'Artagnan felt himself laughing.

Treville sighed heavily before heaving himself to his feet, patting the Gascon's mare. "I think I prefer 'the four musketeers' to 'the three musketeers anyway," he said wonderingly.

Aramis nodded, following his captain's lead and standing also. "So do I… it has more of a ring to it."

Athos chuckled as he stood to his feet, reaching his arm out and smiling when d'Artagnan grabbed it and was pulled up.

Porthos swung an arm around the Gascon as they walked out of the stable, pulling him close to his side. D'Artagnan's smile was back on his face, and it made the world seem a little brighter.

Treville stroked the horse's velvety nose before turning to follow them out, hearing them laughing at something Aramis had said about them being in that stable so long that they'd missed dinner.

Sighing happily, the captain felt himself smiling. "First there were three," he said quietly to himself, "and then there were four."

* * *

 **I'm so proud of this fanfiction O-O**

 **Please review if you liked it! It would mean the absolute world to me :D Thank you for reading! ~ Gre3nleaf**


End file.
